


Listen

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Early island timeline, Flarrowverse Shipyard, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oliver doesn't really know what discipline is yet, Slade means business, punishment spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 06:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16131893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: Oliver is done with Slade's harsh training and decides to go eat against Slade's orders. Slade will just teach him yet another life lesson that Oliver didn't know yet.





	Listen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klep (kleptoandpyro)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleptoandpyro/gifts).



"You're not _learning_ , kid."

"Yeah, guess I'm too busy getting beaten up to learn much." If that came out bitter, well, Oliver _was_ bitter. And not just a little bit either.

Slade had been beating him for hours, adding bruise after bruise after bruise. Oliver was aching all over, and his whole body felt feverish from the cold air and the hot sun, both taking their toll as much as Slade and his wooden stick were. He was also starving, because Slade insisted to do this before even going to check on their traps to see if they had breakfast they could make. Their dinner the night before hadn't amounted to much, because they only caught one bird and Slade had been too busy training him for them to have time to go catch something.

It was like Slade was doing it on purpose. Wear him down until there was nothing left, just a heap of bones and flesh beaten to a pulp.

Yeah, Oliver was bitter. And he was not in the mood to hide it.

He wiped his mouth brusquely, his lip still bleeding from an earlier punch that morning. Slade didn't look pleased with his smart mouth at all, more like he was ready to add another punch for another point for his lip to bleed, but Oliver wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"I'm going to check on our traps. I'm too hungry for this shit."

"We're not ready here."

Oliver ignored the threatening lilt of Slade's voice, scoffing and turning his back. "Whatever. You can continue to beat me after I eat."

_He had not anticipated how literal Slade would take that_ .

Slade had let him go to bring back the traps that caught them something. He had not offered help in the preparation, to Oliver's chagrin, but Oliver had been getting the hang of plucking and gutting birds by now. It didn't make him queasy anymore - or it didn't most of the time. His stomach still turned when he got a bird with some sort of disgusting disease or parasite, but he was lucky this morning. Or afternoon, maybe, he couldn't be sure.

He was left completely unbothered until the first parts of his birds were roasted properly over the fire, wings and legs ready to chew the sparse bit of meat off - chicken wings had not prepared him for how little meat a wild bird would have on its limbs - but before he could wait out the whole bird to be cooked through Slade sat down next to him with sharp, convicted movements.

Oliver assumed Slade just came for food, so he reached over for the second bird roasting over the fire to hand it to him as a sort of peace offering.

He had been mistaken.

Slade grabbed his wrist in an iron grip before he could touch the stick the bird was skewered on. Oliver glanced up in surprise, but he was not given the chance to question. Instead he was dragged over by force, and the next moment he found himself splayed over Slade's lap.

"Slade- what the hell-?"

He yelped in surprise at the force of Slade's hand coming down on his backside.

"The fuck, Slade!? What's your problem? Sto-"

"Shut up." The order was cold, emotionless, and accompanied by a spank as hard as the first one, practically bruising. "I let you eat as you requested. I have been _merciful_ so far. But it's time you learn your lesson, kid."

There was _something_ in Slade's voice that made Oliver's insides go cold, and his teeth snapped together audibly as he quite literally shut himself up.

Oliver had never been spanked before, and he certainly didn't think this was the appropriate time or age to get started. He just… couldn't argue with Slade. Not while Slade was holding him down like he had just parked a complete building on Oliver's shoulders, hard and unmoving, and each swat from his flat hand felt like it reverberated through Oliver all the way to his teeth. It hurt but it wasn't like the beating Slade had been giving him during training - or worse, like that damned torture session he had to bite through from Slade's ex-partner. The spanking was more humiliating than anything.

_Of course, that whole conclusion was once again made too soon._

There was an unexpected touch of fingers on skin, Slade hooking fingers under Oliver's waistband and roughly yanking his pants down. Oliver yelped again, thrashing to get out of Slade's grip, but it didn't nothing to deter the man. Instead he kept spanking like Oliver was just being an unruly child, now over the much thinner layer of his underwear.

This was a lot more painful, especially since he was already a bit sore from the spanking so far. It was also a lot more humiliating to be spanked with his pants down on his knees, and he truly thanked god for small mercies that they didn't have an audience, in the very least. It was not as easy to stay quiet under this onslaught, but Oliver at least tried to bite down on any whimpers trying to escape. Slade didn't deserve the satisfaction of making Oliver cry with a fucking _spanking_.

But again, that conviction was sabotaged. Slade clearly wasn't about to stop here. Oliver's underwear was yanked down next, and Oliver flinched at the sound of ripping fabric - it wasn't like he had a spare set around so that might end up being the worst punishment Slade was dishing out here - and the next swat sounded hollow, flesh on flesh, cupped palm on round arse.

It reminded Oliver of falling flat on the water of their pool from the diving board, but more concentrated, and with a whole lot more purpose.

"Fuck," he hissed between his teeth, fingers clenching hard in the muddy fabric of Slade's pants. His cheeks were clenched together in a helpless and useless defence against the onslaught, but the tension was not doing anything against how painful each spank was. No, every time Slade's hand connected was worse, and worse, and _worse_.

His arse was burning like fire and his eyes stinging with tears he refused to acknowledge. He was biting his lip hard enough for it to bleed all over again, at least adamant on keeping his sounds in check.

That worked until Slade changed the rhythmic spanking all over the round swell of his arse down to much more sensitive spots where his butt creased to his thighs. Slade hitched one leg up to bring Oliver's arse up higher, no doubt for a better aim on the new, more sadistic spot to spank, and Oliver immediately started to struggle.

"No-no stop, it's enough Slade, I got it, I got it!"

"You understood nothing yet," Slade answered gruffly. Oliver tried to shield his burning arse with a hand, but it was easily turned on his back and held down. Slade was having no problem holding Oliver down with just one hand.

"Slade, stop!" He kicked his legs next, trying to upset Slade's balance and escape from his hold. Slade simply hooked one of his legs around both of Oliver's, leaving Oliver bent over just one knee while his legs were pinned in a secure grip.

"This isn't a fun game, kid. This is punishment. This is reality."

Oliver bucked but it was no use. Slade was relentless, and the tears were quietly rolling down Oliver's face by the time he moved up from his sitting spots again. Oliver was scowling through his tears, tears he was going to refuse to acknowledge, but Slade moving the spanking back up onto the red burning skin that had suffered all the abuse earlier made it impossible to stay quiet.

He was starting to lose it against the whimpers and he couldn't hold still under the spanking even if he wanted to anymore. He was squirming and thrashing as much as Slade's grip allowed, no matter how little that was.

"Slade, _please_ -"

Oliver didn't want to think of how watery his voice sounded. And it _worked_ , so he didn't have to. Slade stopped. _Oliver stooped to begging for it_.

He was released from the iron, aching hold and Oliver immediately scrambled back, in a hurry to pull up his pants and no longer be so exposed and humiliated. It didn't help much, not with the way Slade was still looking at him.

"Next time you will listen to what I tell you," Slade told him, and it wasn't even an order, just a statement of a fact. "Because if you don't, one of these days you'll be running into your death on this island."

Oliver bit his lip hard, unable to come up with a response. He wanted to say something witty or scathing or dismissive, but Slade had successfully beaten all of that out of him just now. All there was left was the acknowledgement that Slade was _right_ and the punishment apparently for his own good, no matter how unconventional.

"Sit down and eat." This time it was an order, so Oliver scooted to the other side of the fire to warily lower himself on his knees, not really daring to sit down properly with the burning pain in his backside. He knew this was going to be a hassle while training, and that Slade would make use of this weakness rather than sparing him for it. And he also knew that as soon as they finished eating, they'd be out there in that field hitting each other with stick again.

If it wasn't for Slade watching him so closely from across the fire, Oliver would've taken out Laurel's picture now to wallow in homesickness.

_Just because Slade was right didn't mean he had to like it._


End file.
